by J. A. Kerr
Guy: Sorry. x
Her response was immediate.
Anna: Sorry for what?
He understood then she wasn’t going to make this easy, but then, that was his Anna. She had him completely bewitched, and he quickly replied.
Guy: Missing my appointment…can we reschedule? x
His heart was thumping as he nervously waited for her reply, and he jumped when his phone beeped.
Anna: Mmmmmm thinking…
He was on tenterhooks, knowing she was only a couple of floors above him and the thought was driving him wild.
Guy: What are you wearing? x
His mobile beeped again, and he gasped. The photo Anna sent him showed she still wore nothing beneath her skirt; it was shocking and deeply erotic and he loved it. His breathing quickened and his fingers trembled as he replied.
Guy: Can you squeeze me in? x
His mobile beeped, and he saw another picture: a packet of wet wipes. He groaned, feeling himself harden.
Guy: Is it going to be messy? x
Anna: Filthy!
Her reply had him salivating. The office was quiet now; most people had already left. Guy wouldn’t have cared if the place was still crowded, which was stupid, but then again he wasn’t thinking with his brain.
Guy: Shall I clean you? x
Anna: Flat 2A, Clover Street, Westminster.
Confused, it took Guy a second to realise it was Anna’s home address. Excited, he was up and out the office in minutes, punching her address into his Sat Nav while steering the car. Blood roared in his ears, all he could think of was being with Anna…being inside Anna. As he parked he realised he had no recollection of the journey. His fingers shook as they pressed the buzzer of 2A, then the door opened and he stepped inside. Anna stood naked except for her hold-up stockings and high heels, her nipples already hard and her face composed.
What happened next was pure animal instinct and a total loss of control. He lunged at her, grabbing her roughly, his hands between her legs, and her wetness slick on his fingers. He pushed them into her mouth while she tried to loosen his belt. He slammed her into the wall, knocking her hands away as his mouth closed on her breast. She yelped and moaned as he sucked hard, her nails digging painfully into his back. He teased the nipple back and forth, his teeth gently nipping. Anna ripped his shirt open and pushed him hard—it was now his back against the wall and her mouth on his chest. When she bit him, it was the sweetest pain, and something he’d never experienced. He roared, shoving her to the floor and spreading her stocking-ed legs apart before savagely thrusting deep inside her. He pounded into her selfishly, animalistic, with only one thought in his mind: dominance.
As her nails sunk into his back, he gasped, and it was enough to make him pause. He looked into her glassy eyes…what a deluded and naïve fool he was. This was what she had wanted all along. He shuddered inside her. Just like that, the madness lifted to be replaced by shame. Rolling away, he lay on his back, arm covering his eyes as his chest heaved up and down.
“Anna,” he whispered, disgusted with himself. He could have hurt her; he had been brutal, and he certainly hadn’t addressed her needs.
He felt her stand and then the graze of something on his chest. His eyes popped open to see Anna’s heel lightly dragging on his skin. He looked up to see her standing over him smiling, her lips bruised, her nipples taut and dark. Her sex was framed by the lace of her stockings, her long legs enhanced by the high black heels. He felt himself harden again as she moved the heel down his chest and he saw the flash of red on the sole.
His breathing quickened as the heel travelled towards his groin. When she pushed his sac with the toe of her shoe he gasped, his gaze locked onto hers. Walking down to his ankles, her foot slid between his legs and nudged them apart. Anna stood there as he lay spread-eagled and vulnerable. His heart hammered as she lifted her foot and placed it along the length of his shaft. Fear and excitement rushed through him as he looked at Anna’s face; it was as remote as ever. When she moved her foot up and down, he closed his eyes briefly, sublime pleasure moving through him. The pressure of her heel kept the experience dangerously erotic as it moved faster and faster. When the toe of the soft kid leather nudged against the head of his arousal, he moaned, knowing he couldn’t hang on much longer. When he saw Anna’s fingers slip between her own legs, he climaxed. Instinct made him move as Anna’s own orgasm made her foot slam into the floor.
Chapter 8
The Braille Club, London, One Year On: The bespoke hood that every Braille member received had state of the art technology. Wireless headphones delivered the highest quality digital sound, using Adaptive Noise Canceling Technology. New breathable fabric kept the wearer cool. Now, however, like the sensory suit, the hood enabled touch…to the face, to ears, and to the head, making temperatures rise from within.
London 2014
Siena
Benedict stared in distress at the scene that met his eyes and rushed to Siena.
“Don’t touch my arm,” she said in alarm.
“Are you okay? What happened?” he asked in a rush.
“Get the twins,” said Siena, ignoring the question. Benedict scooped the crying twins into his arms and comforted them. Their crying lessened, and with Siena cooing their names, it stopped completely.
“Right, we’ll go down the stairs together. Put your good arm on my shoulder,” said Benedict firmly.
Although consumed with the DNA results and getting to them before Benedict, she knew arguing would be futile. Every step she took jarred her arm and made her wince.
“Put the twins in the playpen, Benedict—I’ll get their bottles and food,” said Siena, the nausea starting again.
“No, I’ll do that. You look terrible—go into the lounge and sit down.”
Siena shook her head. “I’ll come with you to the kitchen; at least I can tell you what happened.”
Cold sweat had formed on her forehead as she moved, her eyes fixed on the kitchen island. Just seeing the paper lying there made her heart race. She jumped as Benedict strode past her with the twins, placing them both in their highchairs. He turned and noticed how strained she looked.
“What is it, Siena? What’s wrong?” He followed her line of vision, frowning. The doorbell rang, making them both jump.
“Grace,” breathed Benedict, and he went to open the door.
Siena saw her chance; she grabbed the paper and stuffed it into her jeans as her heart hammered. She had no idea what to do and or how to tell Benedict. She could hear her mobile ring but ignored it as Grace entered the kitchen. They spent ten minutes with Grace showing her around the house, and then they were en-route to the hospital.
Benedict’s voice was quiet in the car. “Tell me what happened, Siena. Was it your diabetes?”
She couldn’t lie to him; it was his biggest fear. “No, it was a panic attack, a bad one, and I fainted. I guess I fell on my shoulder.”
She saw his face harden. His handsome outline contorted as an expression of pure rage passed over it. Tension settled heavily into the silence in the car.
“The usual one?” his voice was tight.
“Yes, sorry,” she whispered, feeling the shame wash over her.
“Siena, you have nothing to be sorry for. You did nothing wrong, but maybe it’s time we took professional advice.”
“Noooooo,” said Siena vehemently. “I’ll never allow anyone inside my head again.” Her breathing quickened as the shock of the day and Benedict’s comments made her burst into tears.
“Siena…”
***
Benedict
Benedict pulled the car over and gingerly took Siena into his arms to avoid jarring her shoulder. He saw terror in her eyes. It was at these times he cursed the fact he had left Nick Waters breathing.
“Okay, okay, I understand. No psychiatrists,” he said hurriedly, appalled by his lack of sensitivity. He felt the tension leave her body. “We must get help in. Shall I call your parents?”
Siena nodded, and he saw light flood into her dim, hollow eyes. Her expression changed to relief and at last a small smile appeared on her lips. Pulling the car back into the traffic, they reached the hospital fifteen minutes later. Today convinced Benedict Siena should not be left alone. Fragile from her attack, with an ongoing illness, she was a disaster waiting to happen. Images of her falling down the stairs with the twins in her arms made his driving home that day even more erratic. It was his biggest fear that she’d hurt herself or the twins because of her diabetes, and now these panic attacks. He tried to suppress his anger for Siena’s sake, but God help him, if he ever got his hands on Nick Waters he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Helping her out of the car, they walked towards A&E, arriving at its doors just as his mobile rang. Fearing it may be Grace; he pulled it out of his pocket and frowned.
“It’s the lawyers.”
Siena pointed at the sign that stated mobile phones should be switched off. With reluctance Benedict let his voicemail kick in. He switched his mobile to silent; he wouldn’t take the risk of turning it off in case Grace needed to contact him. The reception was quieter than expected and they were processed quickly before taking a seat in the waiting room.
“I wonder what they wanted,” Benedict mused.
***
Siena
Siena’s mind was running riot. Had they requested a copy of the DNA results be posted to them also? Was that the reason they were calling? Had they received them? She sat there rigid; time was running out. She had to find a way to tell Benedict.
“Siena Green?” said a nurse, and they both stood.
***
Benedict
Benedict’s mobile vibrated in his pocket as they followed the nurse, and he saw another missed call from their lawyers. Whatever had happened, it was obviously important, he thought. Just as soon as he could, he would ring them.
Doctors and x-rays filled the next hour. Siena’s shoulder was dislocated but thankfully not broken. They had given her an injection for the pain, but her scream was loud and anguished as the doctor skilfully rotated her shoulder into place. They left shortly afterwards, both ashen and shaken, Benedict clutching the painkillers the hospital had given him. Neither of them spoke on the drive home. Both exhausted and preoccupied, they just didn’t have the strength. Glad to be home, Benedict led Siena upstairs. He wanted to help her undress, take off her jeans at least, but she stubbornly refused. One look at the set of her face told him it was useless to argue. She disappeared into the bathroom and returned with her robe draped over her shoulders. He pulled the covers back to let her slip into bed. He sat next to her, concerned, his hand caressing her exhausted face as sleep claimed her.
What a day, he thought as he stood, giving Siena one last look before closing the bedroom door. He found Grace in the playroom with the twins and he slumped down on the sofa.
“How’s Siena?” Grace asked anxiously.
“Asleep now. Her shoulder was dislocated but they fixed it at the hospital,” said Benedict, grimacing at the memory.
“Poor thing,” said Grace sympathetically. “Let me get you a coffee,” she insisted, “you look worn out.”
Benedict nodded and took his phone out of his pocket and noticed several calls, all from their lawyer. He listened to his voicemail and heard their lawyer asking to contact her urgently. He went through the rest of the messages, their lawyer becoming more and more desperate. Benedict had a bad feeling; the lawyer had insisted Benedict call her, no matter when, no matter how late, just call. He frowned, not liking the sound of that, something was wrong. Tiredness overwhelmed him but he lifted his mobile.
Chapter 9
The Braille Club, London, One Year On: The Braille Cuffs were replaced by the Braille Bracelets. They were central to the game and had been developed to be used in comfort, could be joined if required, and were easy to operate. When the bell rang it triggered a signal that deactivated all equipment and the bracelets would automatically unlock. The sensitivity of movement could now be controlled on an easy, medium, and difficult setting, but like all things within the Braille Club, the members did not get to choose.
Two Years Earlier
Guy
It was the perfect set-up and neither of them was prepared when it ended. Unbeknown to them, Anna’s husband had become suspicious. He’d been following her for some time. He watched her open the door of the small rented flat to Guy. They had gotten sloppy in their contentment. Guy hadn’t seen her in almost three weeks and was desperate for the release she gave him. As she shut the door, he kissed her long and hard. Pushing her to the floor, he was inside her in minutes.
They lay there on the hall runner, his groans and her screams drowning out the sound of a key in the lock. Guy felt the chill on his skin as the door swung open and froze. There was nowhere to hide as they sprang apart, pulling at their clothes. Anna’s husband just stood there, his face registering shock and outrage. The shame of those first minutes would never leave him. His face burned with the memory, although the events thereafter were hazier. Her husband turned and walked out. Anna started to cry but when he tried to comfort her, she had pushed him away. She asked him to leave, and shocked to his core, he complied. He would never forget the look on her face, like her life was over as she stared after her husband. He realised then he meant nothing to her.
Guy stumbled out to his car, opening the door and sinking inside while he tried to collect his thoughts. Numb, his mind in shock, he stared at nothing. He kept seeing Anna’s face, no longer detached but full of emotion. It wasn’t this alone that bothered him, it was the fact that yes, she did love, she just didn’t love him. How could he have been so blind? Anna loved her husband, he thought, her face told him that and more. A tear rolled down his cheek as his heart constricted. The pain caught him by surprise—it was deep and intense. His body trembled as his shock increased. The pain of rejection magnified as his mind played the scene over and over. He remembered Anna’s face clearly as he’d tried to comfort her. It appeared twisted and full of…he struggled to identify the emotion but then realised the truth. Hate. Her face had been filled with hate as she had shoved him away. He doubled over, clutched his stomach, and closed his eyes. The sob of despair ripped through him and his shoulders heaved as he cried.
At last he became aware of his surroundings. He saw Anna’s husband then, stumbling down the street, and sank into his seat, out of view. Her cry made him peep over the dashboard in alarm. Anna had run onto the road and thrown her arms around the prone figure of her husband. It looked like she was begging for forgiveness. They staggered around crazily as he tried to prise her loose. He shoved her away and she fell to her knees, sobbing and incoherent. Guy watched in horror, unable to move, but unable to look away. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. Eventually, he saw Anna’s husband reach out his hand and pull his wife to her feet. They walked slowly to the open door of the flat. She didn’t look around; she didn’t look for him, her eyes never left her husband’s face. As he watched them enter the flat with their arms around each other, he had never felt so alone.
The image of Anna with her husband was burned into his memory banks. He was unsure how long he’d been there. He stayed, hoping to catch a glimpse of her at the window. She never appeared, and as darkness fell, he wondered if it would be the last time he would see her. The thought chilled him to the bone. He needed her…could not survive without her because he could no longer deny his feelings. He was in love with Anna…the realisation made him reel. Like war it was brutal; his heart the casualty, wounded and bleeding. His thoughts were the enemy; he loved her…but she did not love him, they taunted. Wrestling with his volatile emotions, he gripped the steering wheel. He was a survivor, he would survive this. This battle was lost, but not the war. Anna needed time, and she had some hard decisions in front of her. He reached out and started the car. What they had together had been real, he was certain she would see that. Everything was in the open now. It wasn’t the way he
would have planned it, but realistically if Anna split from her husband, he’d be relieved. He wasn’t sure what their future held; he only knew he wanted her, all of her…all the time.
He put the car in gear and pulled away, his heart lighter as his mind mulled over the possibilities. Leaving Anna felt wrong, but what could he do? He must wait for her to contact him; it would be hard but necessary. She needed space, but now the damage was done, he felt sure they’d be together. This theory, and this theory alone, became his focus. He banished his darker thoughts, no longer seeing Anna’s hate-filled face as she shoved him away.
The next day at work he was hopeful he’d bump into her, but he didn’t. Days turned into weeks until he found out she wasn’t at work. He went back to checking his mobile and home phone obsessively, but they both remained silent. She filled his dreams at night and his thoughts by day. The pain in his heart grew worse as the weeks slowly turned into months and his hopes of reconciliation faded. He lost weight, he couldn’t sleep, and the dark purple circles around his eyes told a story he himself was unwilling to share. His colleagues had given up trying to get him to talk when all they got back was stony silence.
After that, they stayed away, avoiding him. Whenever he entered the room, it fell quiet. He made his colleagues uncomfortable; no one would meet his eyes. People stopped talking when they saw him, and he hated them for it. His rage and unhappiness, raw and ugly, had become a barrier. The fact Anna had been so close, just a few floors between them, drove him crazy, but he had never seen her. Thoughts of going to her offices again were dismissed, but the knowledge was like a festering wound. Guy stared hard at his reflection and didn’t like what he saw; he was unrecognisable. Something had to change. Ashamed of his behaviour and utterly miserable, he requested a transfer with a heavy heart.